Light In the Dark
by palomino333
Summary: Post-Animated. Arcee's experience as a captive of the Decepticons has left painful scars on her. Healing them is not impossible, but the cost of doing so may be something she cannot afford: permanent memory loss.


Chronologically, this follows after The Price Of A Smile, which, respectively is after Once.

* * *

"Oh, Primus! No, please!" Ratchet jolted awake at the scream that pierced the air from the berth to the side of the chair he had dozed off in, having been lulled to sleep by the soothing hums and beeps that had once given the small med bay within Omega Supreme its feeling of tranquility. Now those same noises had been converted to alarms that shattered the room's peace. The berth's current inhabitant, lit eerily in the blue glow of the light fixture hanging above, was writhing in agony, her optics tightly shut, blinding swiping the air with her servos, and kicking her stabilizing servos as if she was fighting off an unseen assailant. The spark monitor she was attached to was the cause of these alarms, its rate having abnormally sped up to twice its usual beats.

"Arcee!" he cried, his tiredness quickly being replaced by anxiety. He sprang up and proceeded to shake her, yelling, "Wake up, you're dreaming!"

Her optics popped open. "What?!"

The monitor faltered for a few moments, and finally it returned to its normal pace as she realized that no one was going to harm her. Arcee in turn pressed herself into his chassis, letting out a long, shuddering breath. Ratchet held her steady all the while, and continued to do so long after the positive change had occurred, as if he was afraid that if he let go of her, she would fall and shatter on the floor below. He sighed. "It's just as I feared. Your memories of being taken captive are beginning to manifest themselves in your dreams."

"But there is one problem with that," she answered, her voice half-muffled because of what she was speaking into.

Although he already knew the answer, he asked anyway. "What is it, Arcee?"

She lifted her helm to look at him, revealing a lost expression that made him feel an ache in his spark. "I can't remember a thing about the dream."

XXXXXX

The medic once again found himself wishing that all of Arcee's problems had been settled when his teammates and he had rescued her from Megatron's clutches on the Moon. Unfortunately, that had not been the case. In the time after the battle on Earth, she had begun to show signs of what humans called post-traumatic stress disorder. Ratchet had suffered it after he and she had been captured and tortured by Lockdown, and he knew quite well that she had, as well. Of course, his case had been much more blatant, the fact being that he had not lost his memory like she had.

It had been pure agony to go on living the few days after what had occurred. Every shadow seemed to take the form of Lockdown. Every whisper of sound was the clank of a stabilizing servo coming after the medic. And every time Ratchet had tried to shutter his optics recharge, he was too nervous about what he would see when he opened them again. He had been given a medication by the more seasoned medbots to deal with his mental pain, but what really had helped him get better was the fact that he was really the only visitor, outside of medical staff and Elite Guard officers, Arcee had. Her recorded history stated that she had no friendly relations around to care for her. Her friends were either killed, missing, or stationed too far away during the Great War. Sadly, this was a reality that several invalids in that period of time had to face, and Ratchet was at least satisfied that he could save this femme from that lonely fate. It also helped that he felt a strong attraction to her.

Arcee suffered from the remembrance of the cruel session with Lockdown as well, but since her memory core had been blasted into oblivion, her pain came in a much different form. The first day, when she had finally awoken in the infirmary, much to the delight of her watchful admirer, she had not even known her own name. Ratchet, knowing very well how it important it would be for her to remember that, helped her dizzied mentality find its way back to a straight path. In short, he had her draw her name from her own mind, rather than pumping it into her and robbing her of any opportunity to regain her strength and confidence in herself. What Ratchet had failed to calculate, however, was what his action would trigger. When he arrived in the infirmary the following day to see her, he was greeted by a rather tired medic named First-Aid, Arcee's chief tender. He explained to Ratchet that although both the staff and the patient in question were grateful to him for helping to restore this piece of Arcee (though it was rather minute), he would have to wait hold off from speaking with her about her past until she was considered stable. This was in order to avoid another nightmare, or worse, a meltdown.

Ratchet felt his intelligence had been insulted by the order. He knew the best way for her to restore her memory was to face it, or at least what he could tell of it, was for her to face everything that had occurred, be it good, bad, or otherwise. That way, her processor, buzzing with constructive activity, would then be easily triggered to recount her other memories, ones he did not even know. When he tried to explain his point, however, First-Aid simply raised a servo to stop him from speaking. "It is an official order from the Elite Guard. I am sorry, but I have no power in this."

Time dragged on, and Ratchet's theory rung true. Because of the long delay in her memory reparation, it took Arcee a very long time to fully regain just the tidbits Ratchet was able to provide for her. And it wasn't caused by any laziness from him; he had spent whatever time he could to help her, and then some, despite the fact that it hurt when his help did not work. What could he say? He was smitten. It because, try as she may, she couldn't get her processor to retain the information; it had been at rest far too long to function properly. Whenever Ratchet told her the story about their capture and subsequent escape from the bounty hunter, he may as well have tried talking to a wall. Not that she was ungrateful, however. She was always hard on herself to remember, despite his protests and those of the staff. As honorable as Arcee's intentions were, her efforts had actually worked against her; stress caused her processor to function even less. As a result, she would oftentimes tire herself out. It was pure agony for Ratchet to have to literally take her into his arms lower her back onto the berth because of her lack of strength. But Arcee always tried to cure that placing a weak kiss on his faceplate. Sometimes, he would catch it on his lips. It was true, she loved him too. Sadly, her efforts only made the process into a miserable cycle for the two of them. True, each enjoyed the kiss, but neither cared for the pain.

XXXXXX

This time, the situation was different. Firstly, not all of Arcee's memory had been lost after what Shockwave had put her through. It was a small comfort, but it was better than having nothing. And Ratchet could feel better knowing that it was not his fault this time that parts of her memory were as of yet unknown to her. Secondly, he did not have to worry about leaving her in the care of the Elite Guard medbots. He had the new Magnus and Arcee herself to thank for that. Optimus had taken Arcee aside and asked her whether she would like to apply to return to the Elite Guard, seeing as how her mental health was now up to their standards. However, she would not be able to hold her previous position as intelligence officer with her advanced age and bad leg, another unwanted side effect of her overly protected stay in the infirmary. Rather, she would receive a desk job. Optimus had told his medic that as soon as he finished asking, she had shaken her helm and told him that her place was with Ratchet and his team. And so, it was made official that she was no longer affiliated with the Elite Guard, and therefore, her medical care rested solely in the servos of the team medic.

The news had been met with happiness from her new comrades. Bulkhead had lifted her to spin her around in an ecstatic circle, much to the humor of Bumlebee, Sari, Optimus, and Jazz, and the slight agitation of Ratchet, who warned him not to drop her. Arcee, in an attempt to cheer the medic, had smiled over at him and stated that she would be all right between bouts of laughter. It was sad that not everyone was together. Prowl was no longer in existence, much to the sparkache (and heartache), of his friends. Ratchet envied Sari's human ability to release her pent-up sadness in tears, while he had to keep it inside.

Optimus had to move to the official Elite Guard quarters provided for each Magnus to live and function in. However, he did state quite strongly that he did not intend to remain there. He would return to the field as soon as he found an opening to do so. Ratchet knew very well, though, that such an opening would be a long time in coming. With the paperwork, unfinished business, and a legion of several officers that were highly critical of Optimus left in the wake of Ultra Magnus's reign, it would be extremely hard to find a reprieve. Jazz would also be away for a while, but at least his case was a little more adjustable. He did have his own ample amount of paperwork to do in his absence from Cybertron, but it did not even come close to falling within the magnitude that the supreme commander of the Autobots had to tangle with. He did have Sentinel plucking away at him for going AWOL under his command, but seeing as how the former Magnus was quite unpopular at the moment due to his past inadequacies, there was clearly little for him to worry over. Ratchet was currently facing no penalty for taking Ultra Magnus's hammer.

To be quite frank, he was facing nothing, unlike his other comrades. Bumblebee was chaperoning Sari on her path to uncover her true origin. It was quite a dangerous one at that, as the yellow mech had quite recently returned with a slash wound on his neck. He was not the only one to have suffered, as the jet twins were currently incapacitated due to their own sufferings. Lockdown was at it again, but this time he had become the hunted. The Elite Guard had posted their own bounty for him. Quite ironic, and utterly childish in the medic's opinion. It was no use to tell a group of inexperienced kids to go after a monster that had been living for millions of stellar cycles. Bulkhead's task, on the other hand, was not as physically excruciating. Rather, it was irritating. Apparently, the majority of the engineers of Cybertron could not get it through their thick helms that a mud flap knew more than they did. Even Perceptor was taking a little time to be swayed, though not because of Bulkhead's low class status. Rather, it was his lack of professional experience in the area. Ratchet knew that the new Magnus could order for Perceptor to mute his doubtful processor and listen to the mech, but doing so would result in Optimus losing favor. That was why no change had occurred, and also why Bulkhead tried as hard as he could not to complain. Everyone could easily read it, though.

Why Ratchet was currently jobless was simple: he, like Arcee, was too old for the Elite Guard's standards. Besides, he needed to stay with Omega Supreme. What gave him a purpose, however, was helping his ladybot to rekindle her life. That was, until her symptoms began. Ratchet had wondered beforehand if what happened to her after the bout with Lockdown would occur again, but since her memory core had been tinkered with so much by Shockwave, he could not be sure. After receiving her permission and informing Optimus and the others, he tried to diagnose her, but came up with nothing, much to everyone's relief, except his and hers.

The medic still remained concerned because he could not forget how bad Arcee's case had been before. Little did he know that he had inadvertently worried his patient, who had begun to wonder if there was something wrong with her processor, something that was taking its sweet time to surface. The very next day, it did in three ways. The first had been the fact that she was suddenly nervous when it came to being in the med bay. Throughout the duration of the daylight hours, she had kept clear of it, even taking the long away around to reach a destination if taking the short way meant passing directly by it. Ratchet, having realized this, had had to leave his post from cleaning and maintaining the room on multiple occasions in order to see her. The second was the fact that she could no longer listen to stories about her past for lengthy periods of time. Although she was immensely grateful to Ratchet for helping her fill in the holes, she would often appear tired and have to ask him to stop for a while. His storytelling would then pick up again on a later occasion. She had said it was because it too much information at once, but Ratchet found himself fearing a much worse cause.

That was the exact reason he had asked her to allow him to monitor her overnight. He had not alerted Optimus or Jazz because he had been half hoping that it was simply because of her nerves that this was happening. He did have to tell the others, however, since they shared the same living space. Naturally, they were worried too. Bulkhead had asked if it really was a good idea not to tell Optimus. Ratchet then pointed out that the leader had far too much work towering over him. Not that the new Magnus didn't care about his old team, of course, but the medic would not want to have to distract him for nothing. Even though Bulkhead was only slightly reassured (as was Ratchet, to tell the truth), he agreed that it was the best choice for the moment. Bumblebee wasn't too big on the idea, either. If it had been one or two stellar cycles ago, he would have called Ratchet crazy. But after his experiences on Earth, he had matured enough to instead ask Arcee if she really wanted to do this. He, after all, had seen Arcee in her most vulnerable state when she had been connected to hoards of wires that served the dual purpose of relieving her of control of her own body and keeping her online.

Sari, in her concern for the femme, had asked Ratchet if she could try to find the problem that was plaguing Arcee herself through her techno-organic powers. Bulkhead and Bumblebee had agreed with her proposal immediately. Arcee, after considering it, finally gave a nod. Ratchet, however, took more time to think on it. The only machines Sari had bonded with had either been in dormant or automatic states. A sentient, fully operational mechanical being was a completely different case. However, Sari's good-natured feelings pervaded that fact. He knew it would be unfair to her to leave her out of the loop after everything they had been through. Ratchet had finally agreed and led the group into the med bay, instructing Arcee to lie down on the medical berth. The techno-organic was then lowered onto her by Bumblebee. Carefully, Sari placed her hand on the femme's head. The room was almost completely silent, save for the hum of the nearby computers and spark monitor.

Slowly, Arcee had shuttered her blue optics, and her body let out a sigh of relief. The spark monitor remained as steady as ever, its beeps almost soothing in their rhythm. Sari had closed her eyes as her hand and the spot it was on began to glow a soft blue color. The three mechs had watched intently. Ratchet had known in the back of his processor that he should have been taking notes, but he had been too concerned for Arcee's welfare at the moment to care. After a few minutes that had seemed to drag on for hours, Sari had opened her eyes, shook her head, and slowly removed her hand. As the femme had begun to reopen her optics, her spark rate betraying no sign of a change, the technoorganic murmured dejectedly, "I'm sorry, Arcee. I couldn't find anything." The look Arcee had given Ratchet was one of utter misery.

After having quickly given Sari a comforting look, he had replied, "Then we'll go with the original plan. I'll watch you tonight."

XXXXXX

And now, here they were. The nightmares had made their return. The sound of running stabilizing servos coming in the direction of the med bay echoed through the air. Arcee looked embarrassed to hear them. Ratchet stroked her helm in an attempt to comfort her. "It's all right, no one's judging you."

At that moment, Bumblebee, with Sari perched on his shoulder and clinging tightly to his neck, skidded into the med bay, with Bulkhead nearly crashing into him. Their tiredness had been replaced with alarm. "Would you kids be more careful?! We don't need any new injuries in the fragging med bay, for Primus's sake!" Exclaimed the medic in a crotchety tone. It had been an attempt to wipe the concerned looks off of their faceplates (and face). He hated seeing others upset.

"Ratchet, what's going on?" Omega Supreme's deep voice vibrated throughout the entire ship.

The medic took a deep breath to stabilize himself, and then replied a bit ironically, "Nothing to worry about. Arcee just had a bad dream, that's all. It's okay now."

"Ah, I see. I hope she dreams better next time." Ratchet silently thanked Primus for the fact that Omega rarely ever questioned him. At the same time, the medic was also considering taking something to knock himself out later. The stress was threatening to overtake him.

Once everyone was sure the mighty Autobot's subconscious mind had withdrawn within his main core again, Sari zoomed ever to the berth with her jet pack. "I don't understand! I wasn't able to pick up anything!" Tears were welling in her eyes.

Arcee held out her servo, palm up, for Sari to land on, and then wiped her tears away with a finger as she did so. "It's not your fault, sweet spark."

"I think you're on to something, Arcee." Ratchet murmured, trying to ignore the fact that Bulkhead and Bumblebee had moved closer to the berth, and therefore could see him and Arcee in such an intimate position. True, everyone knew that they cared for one another, but he didn't need to be hearing cracks about the two of them later, mainly from Bumblebee. Then again, he could always get the yellow mech back with a few words about him and Sari.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"You said you couldn't remember the nightmare. That was what had happened before."

"You mean when…" Bulkhead began, but let his words trail off out of respect for Arcee's feelings. She gave him a thankful look.

Ratchet nodded. "Exactly. It's a form of what humans call post-traumatic stress disorder. It's so unique, in fact, that it's not in the medical records."

"Because no one has had their memory core blasted that many times and lived a prosperous life afterwards." Arcee softly supplied. Her friends gave her sympathetic looks, and she cracked a thankful smile.

"So, Sari not finding anything was part of what makes it so different?" Bumblebee asked.

"That, and the fact that she can't remember her nightmare. I think it's because her processor is trying to repair itself. I think my diagnosis partly triggered it." Ratchet replied in a guilty tone.

"How?" Arcee asked.

"Your worry was a strong mental reaction. That strength must have kicked it into gear." He muttered.

Arcee gently laid her servo on his arm. "It's all right. You were only trying to help me."

Bulkhead decided to try to change the subject. "Well, what do we do now?"

Ratchet shuttered his optics. "The nightmares repeated themselves last time. I'm willing to bet they will again."

"Can we stop them?" Arcee asked hopefully.

He shook his helm. "As horrible as they are, they are part of your processor restoring itself. Stopping them might freeze its progress." Ratchet felt an icy servo clench him inside as he uttered those words.

"Well, what if we do something to help her fight off the monsters?" Sari asked.

"You mean like you used to do before you upgraded?" Bumblebee asked.

When Sari was a child, she unfortunately had endured her share of nightmares. Since the upgrade, they had been few and far between because her mind had matured with the rapid growth into adolescence. During the time she did have them more often, the original team of five on Earth had borne witness to their effects on her because she had been quartered with them after being kicked out of her own house. Whenever she did have one, Sari usually took a while to calm down and get a glass of water, and then she would go back to sleep. She had explained to her friends (accompanied with tears) that her father had taught her a trick to fight off the fictitious creatures that were haunting her in the night: conjure up something of strength, be it a happy memory or an imaginary friend, and use that to fight the monster off, rather than refusing to fall back asleep. The second option was both cowardly and futile, for refusing to fight back left the monster win the ability to remain in its victim's dreams, and the victim would inevitably have to surrender to its body's need for sleep or face death by maximized energy loss. She nodded, replying, "Yeah," and proceeded to explain the tactic to Arcee.

The femme shook her helm. "It's a good idea, but I won't be able to fight it if I don't know what I'm in for. Whatever the dream is, it's too fast for me to react and conjure something anyway. It's just too…fleeting."

Sari sighed. "Well, it was worth a shot at least." Arcee lowered her thumb gently on the techno-organic's shoulder gently.

Ratchet mused for a moment. Bumblebee caught his faraway expression. "What're you thinking about, Docbot?"

"There is a surgical procedure that might work, but I'm going to need Arcee's permission and our group leader's," he replied quietly.

"Is it risky?" Arcee asked tentatively.

"Not if I do it correctly."

"Well, what is it?" Bulkhead prompted.

"It's basically taking Sari's method, but implementing it in a different way. I could implant some protective software in your processor, Arcee, that will lessen the harshness of the dreams by taking the form of something that is positive to you. There is a catch, however." The room was silent for a moment. All optics (and eyes) were on the medic. Finally, he continued. "It will have to replace a piece of your memory bank for it to function. It's either that or something that controls your physical functions. It needs space to work."

"So, it will basically be defeating the purpose of the dreams, but not completely." Arcee recounted slowly. No emotion was in her tone. Her face had become blank.

"It's up to you." Ratchet replied resignedly.

Her optics traced over each of her friends, who agreed with the medic. Sari smiled encouragingly at her, Bumblebee gave a thumbs up, and Bulkhead spread his arms out to indicate he was ready to handle anything she chose. She then looked over at Ratchet, who looked very sorry for putting her in such a difficult situation. She knew he had no choice, though. "I just have one question, can you control what memory is replaced?" Arcee asked.

Ratchet's jaw clenched. "I can try, but I can't make any guarantees."

She sighed. "Then…That's enough for me. I'll do it."

She let out a cry as her servo was clutched tightly in his. "Are you sure?" He pressed, his optics wide with apprehension.

"What gives, Docbot? She said yes!" Bumblebee exclaimed. Ratchet ignored him.

"Yes, I am." Arcee replied strongly.

His thumb ran over hers. "All right, this time I will call Optimus. I don't care what hour it is." Bulkhead nodded knowingly as the medic got up to do so.

"Are you nervous?" Sari asked.

After taking a few moments to mull her question over, the femme shrugged. "I will very well that I am, but I also have to accept what must be."

XXXXXX

"You actually didn't have to worry about disturbing me. I didn't realize what time it was until you called, Ratchet." Optimus Magnus joked with a chuckle after the medic had made his introduction.

Ratchet smirked, and then quickly got down to business. "I have a favor to ask you for, Pri-er, Magnus."

"What is-oh, hold on a nano-I'll take care of it as soon as I can, just let me speak with one of my men first." Optimus told someone off-screen. It was obvious that he was trying to keep his tone neutral.

The medic decided to bluntly state it, seeing as how he clearly had no time to fool around. "I need to operate or Arcee's processor. I've already asked her permission. She's had a devastating nightmare that will occur again unless I implement a protection device in her. However, it will take out some of her memory."

A moment of silence passed, and then his leader asked, "Why do you think it will happen again?" Ratchet explained Arcee's previous stay in the Elite Guard infirmary, as well as the purpose of the nightmares. When he had finished, Optimus had a grim look on his face, which he cast up at the ceiling of the room he was currently in, as if hoping to see Primus. Ratchet tapped his fingers on the metal casing of the control panel in anticipation. Finally, Optimus looked at him with a sad expression, and replied reluctantly, "Ratchet, I trust you to do what is right. I give you permission. Just-" his words were interrupted by an urgent (and slightly aggravated) calling of his name off-screen. He looked over for a moment, and gave an exasperated sigh, turning back to face his medic. "I'm sorry, but I have to go. Good luck to you and Arcee." At that, the conversation was terminated.

Ratchet stared at his reflection the blank screen for how long did he not know until he finally said to himself in a remarkably strong tone, "Well, it's time."

XXXXXX

The operation was smooth and fast, mainly because Ratchet was too alert from experiencing Arcee's reaction to her nightmare to fall asleep, and Arcee's processor being as cleaned out as it was from constant prodding. True, the majority data within its memory software was corrupt, but that had done nothing to ruin the hardware. Arcee's faceplate was blank, her body still in an unsettling way. She would not be able to dream in an induced state. Ratchet felt an ache in his spark as he sifted through her memory hardware. It barely glowed, showing how out-of-tact it was. Poised in his right servo was a pair of metal pliers with which he was to extract the old hardware that would fit the size he needed to insert the new. The larger ones held longer periods of memories, while the smaller ones held shorter ones. Thankfully, the new hardware was rather small, so Arcee wouldn't lose much, but still, it would no longer be inside her processor.

Not that Ratchet planned on throwing it out. Rather, he planned on keeping it safe so he could dissect it over time to determine its significance with her by his side, although the experience would never compare to actually having it. At long last, he found one, a little imperfect jewel. He was thankful that it was not one of her current memories, but unfortunately he was not able to tell how far back it dated. "Please, Primus, make it insignificant," he whispered as he worked it loose. He carefully placed it into a hollow chrome basin, for it was a priceless treasure to him, and proceeded with the second half.

Softly, ever so softly, he wedged the new hardware inside, and prayed to his deity once again, this time for it to work. The foreign piece glowed a healthy green, a stark contrast to the weak blues surrounding it, as if it did not belong there. Ratchet frowned at its appearance, knowing very well what it represented: the clawing servos of those who dared to try and destroy such a beauty, and his failure to stop their attempts until it was almost too late.

XXXXXX

"You think it's working?" Bulkhead asked as he watched Arcee's chassis rise and fall softly. She was still inside the med bay, but this time she was recharging naturally.

"She's not screaming, is she?" Ratchet countered, his tone lacking the sarcasm to go with it. He was too tired. The medic had taken up his post at the berthside chair, watching his patient as intently as he could muster, his anxiety having faded away due to the energy drain of the surgery.

Bulkhead leaned against the wall on the other side of the berth, his tiredness showing. Bumblebee sat cross-legged on floor, his helm sagging. Sari was lying on her side on his shoulder, her head pillowed on her folded hands. Her light blue eyes were slits against her dark skin. After giving the state of the three a firm look over, Ratchet declared, "It's about time you kids got your own share of recharge."

"But what about Arcee?" Bumblebee asked, a yawn following his words.

"You'll know if she's all right or not in the morning, which, might I add, is in a few hours. I don't want to hear any complaining tomorrow morning, understood?" With a few choices words that were directed at him with no real force, the trio complied.

After they were gone, Ratchet directed his full attention at Arcee again. He didn't want to disturb her and risk awaking her prematurely; she needed the rest. Rather, he would simply watch. He couldn't help but ponder what memory he had removed, but only time would reveal the answer to that conundrum. Still, he would not feel quite the same until that closure was brought to the both of them. One thing was for certain, however: whatever remained of this night was going to be too long for him.

XXXXXX

"No, let go of me!" Arcee screamed, throwing her weight hard in the opposite direction of Shockwave, who had his arms wrapped around her from behind in a sickening mutation of a hug. It was a futile attempt to make him release her, as he was much stronger.

He said nothing for a moment, merely tilting her helm back with one of his claws so she could stare into the brimming crimson optic that was set into his own. It was then that he replied darkly, "Do not fear, my precious femme, I only wish to see the rest of you." At that, he roughly hurled her onto the surface a hard steel berth, its sickly silver color illuminated in the pale light of a massive operating light that was clicked on automatically. The remaining area of the room was black, save for ominous red dots of light that illuminated tiny areas of gargantuan machines, all of which Arcee was willing to bet were to be used in the destruction of her race. Four stasis cuffs, each of them within a twin and linked to long chains from each corner of the berth, leapt up and secured themselves around a different wrist or ankle, much to her horror.

Shockwave stepped with poise into the light, his claws quickly losing density sharpening to the points of medical blades, sinisterly proclaiming, "And now for the moment we have all been waiting for!" Arcee shuttered her optics against the oncoming torturous gauging, screaming.

But it never came. Instead, there was a sharp thud, followed closely by a cry from Shockwave. She opened them just in time to see him flying through the air and crashing into a nearby wall. A pink blast of light followed him, picking up his limp body and sending it flying into one of the heavy machines built into the wall across the room. He crashed into it just as his right servo curled into his chest by mistake. The result was impalement, although Arcee did not see it in the darkness. She did hear it, however, and could not help but smile a little at it. It served him right.

"Are you okay, Arcee?" Her optics widened at the familiar voice. This time, a new figure emerged from the shadows. It was Ratchet, though much younger version of him. His chevron was undamaged, and he appeared to be in the peak of his physical condition. He was exactly as she had remembered him from when he had first found her, wounded and alone on the battlefield so many stellar cycles ago. All she found she could do was nod, feeling too overwhelmed by emotions at the moment.

Carefully, he broke each stasis cuff off with his magnetic powers, allowing her to relax her stretched limbs. "Thank you," she murmured, smiling.

"Don't worry, I'm going to take you home now. Everyone's been missing you." Ratchet lifted her up into his arms as if he was carrying a small sparkling. She pressed her faceplate against his chassis, ravishing the warmth of it. As he kissed the top of her helm, Arcee suddenly felt as if a burden had been released from her. She let the relief wash over her, and it slowly took her out of her consciousness. The young Ratchet faded into the white gray colors cast by the operating berth, and she became enveloped in them. Arcee floated for endless moments, everything going from her, her problems, her thoughts, her memories, all flying away into the nothingness.

Her optics opened to see the med bay on board Omega Supreme before her, and the real Ratchet in recharge right beside her, his solemn face balanced on his right fist. She longed to comfort him. Arcee got up and kissed the side of his faceplate, whispering, "We did it, Ratchet. The nightmare is gone."

Yet, he was too deep into recharge to respond to her. She could not help but feel a sinking feeling in the bottom of her spark at that, but decided it was best to let it go, and relish whatever happiness had been awarded her for the current time. After all, it was the little things that mattered the most.


End file.
